Clint was not wrong about this sucking as much as the arctic survival course. In a way, it was even worse. At least for that, we had proper gear. While Evans had packed more than enough appropriate wet weather gear, even that didn't stand up to the monsoonal rain.
The humidity made it feel like it was raining when it wasn't raining. I was either wet from sweat or rain. It sucked.
Yet neither of us complained. If anything, this had been Clint's best mood since New York.
We were both so exhausted by the time we stopped every night, I fell into a dead sleep. Clint was right behind me. Despite the torturous slog through the mud daily, I don't think I'd seen Clint so well rested. He'd lost the dark circles under his eyes. If I did wake up at night, he'd be snoring lightly behind me.
During the day, Clint's constant stream of chatter kept the hours passing by. All in all, it could have been much worse.
We'd made it to the top of the mountain two days earlier than anticipated. Unlike the previous days of non-stop rain, the sun was shining. It allowed us to find the perfect angle for the needed shot.
"Now, if we go from here," Clint said, shifting my sniper rifle to get a better look through the scope. "It gives a clear angle, but you have the problem of updrafts."
I pulled a face at Clint as I lay next to him. We'd set our tent up to dry ourselves out. It was a new SHIELD invention with cloaking similar to the Quinjets. The sides hardened making the nights of camping on a thin edge much more bearable. It also had a self boring function to fix it into the ground so it didn't blow away in the high winds. It had been a godsend for the trip.
"The weather forecast says it's going to be thunderstorms," I supplied. I glanced down at the book I'd been scribbling in for planning this shot. "Hopefully he comes out of his hole early so we won't have to worry about it."
The thunderstorms hit hard in the afternoons. If the morning was sunny and muggy, you could guarantee around 1500 it would be pouring down rain.
"The air pressure will mess with the shot," Clint said, mostly to himself. "What do you think?"
I scrunched up my nose in thought as I took back my sniper rifle. From this position, it was a beautiful clear shot. There was nothing in our way. It was only the distance and the weather that would make things difficult.
"I think I've written down every shot scenario I can think of," I said, glancing down at my shooting book. I'd done nearly 6 pages of calculations for different scenarios. "I'm going cross-eyed."
"Yeah but you look sexy spread out in front of your gun in your underwear," Clint said cheekily.
"I look sexy all the time," I countered, smothering back a laugh. It was good to see Clint in a good mood. "You can't even keep your hands off me in your sleep."
"You're tangled around me like an octopus," Clint said with a laugh. "I'm constantly trying to get you off me."
"Am not."
It was a lie. Even in my thermal sleeping bag, I was freezing at night time. Even though it was summer, I was freezing.
"You know," Clint started, looking back at me with a thoughtful look. "Nothing is stopping you from taking this shot."
"Except its nearly two miles away," I argued. "And I'm not the best shot in the world."
Clint had once told me that SHIELD agents weren't allowed to have their long distance shots counted for records. Something about Enhanced people having far too much advantage. He'd done multiple shots that were record breaking.
"The world's greatest archer trains you," Clint argued back. "You could make this shot just as easily as I could."
I glanced over Clint once again. It felt like there was an unspoken question in there. We hadn't talked about why Clint was here. Hell, we hadn't talked about anything of substance either. Clint's constant stream of chatter was never about anything important.
"I mean, doesn't that technically mean that I'm going to be the world's greatest shot if I make this?" I didn't want to ruin the mood. Clint had been doing so well.
"Well, you actually will because I think the record is around the 3000 yard mark," Clint said nonchalantly. "I've seen you nail that in practice. So why don't you want to do this?"
He didn't sound mad or disappointed. More curious. He was right though. We trained hard for these kinds of shots. Everyone else said this was a Clint or me shot when shown. I had made much more technical shots during the Battle of New York. Why didn't I think I could do this one?
"I thought you may have wanted it," I said truthfully.
"Not really."
Clint looked away so I couldn't see his expression.
"I'm kinda sick of being nothing but a weapon for SHIELD to point," Clint's voice was flat.
He took a long breath, holding it in for a few more seconds than necessary. Only then did he turn to look at me. The forced smile he'd been wearing since returning from Loki was on his face again.
"Besides, I'm right here if you miss."
Clint's face softened as I smiled back at him. I hated that smile on his face. Nothing I seemed to do helped make it go away. The last few days felt like they'd been good progress. I guess I was wrong.
Before I could reply, Clint's attention snapped towards the other mountain.
"Is that movement?" Clint asked.
I went straight back to my scope. Clint was right. There was movement right where we'd been watching. It was our target. He was pacing back and forth looking agitated. It took me a moment to realise he was talking on a bulky satellite phone.
"You've got this," Clint said quietly. "I'd trust no one else with making this shot."
All of the preparation in my messy handwriting underneath me suddenly felt irrelevant as I lined up the shot. Laying here on my sleeping bag in my underwear was not how I pictured this shot going.
But looking through the scope, and seeing all the feedback made my insecurities from a few moments ago disappear. Clint was right. I'd been training for shots like this for a long time now. I could easily make this.
Burns finally stood still. I could see him waving an arm looking pissed at whoever he was talking to on the phone.
It was now or never.
I had this.
Exhaling slowly, I shifted into position. Burns hadn't moved and I had a beautiful clear shot.
I pulled the trigger.
The strange thing about making shots that were this far away was how long the bullet took to reach its destination. Never forgetting Riley's advice on never taking my focus off the shot until the bullet hit made my fingers twitch into anticipation. But I kept my focus through the scope as the bullet sped through the air. It felt like the longest three and a half seconds of my life.
It almost felt like the entire world slowed down as I saw the bullet hit Burns' head. Even at this distance, the spray of blood and brain was unmistakable.
"That's a hit. Target down." Clint was already on the radio. "Heading to our safe house."
An adrenaline spike got me off the ground, yanking on clothes faster than I had in a long time. I was still tying up my boots as Clint got the rest of our gear packed up. The noise of a helicopter echoed around the quiet valley. Sharing a glance, Clint and I both dived for our camouflaged tent simultaneously.
At least in here, I could tie up my boots in peace. Clint was quickly shoving our sleeping bags back into our packs, along with the rubbish we'd managed to acquire from sitting around all day calculating the shot. A few moments later, a helicopter passed overhead. It sounded far too close to our location, hovering over what felt like right on top of us.
Both of us froze. I knew there was no way they could see us. That didn't stop the terror of knowing a hostile aircraft was above your head.
I held my breath as the helicopter felt like it was growing louder with every passing second. They hadn't moved far from our position. It wasn't hard to know why. It was the only place to get off a clear shot.
Clint nudging my foot brought my attention to him. Unlike how I was feeling, he looked entirely calm and composed. He already had an arrow notched to his bow; his head cocked to the side. His gaze hadn't left above us.
"Get ready to run," Clint whispered. "Leave the gear."
Looking at the arrow already notched, I knew where this was going. It was one of his explosive arrows.
Evans was going to be so pissed at the amount of money we were about to leave on the mountainside. I knew these tents would have cost a fortune. If we needed to run we'd have to leave nearly everything except our weapons.
I gave Clint a stiff nod of acknowledgement. My muscles were bunched and ready to bolt at a moment's notice.
The shadow of the helicopter seemed right above us now. The sound filled the tent making it nearly impossible to hear anything other than the whoosh of the blades.
Taking a deep breath, I made sure I had my sniper rifle back in my lap and ready to go. I couldn't take my eyes off the roof of the tent. The helicopter moved back and forth above us, getting closer with every passing. Beside me, I could feel the tension from Clint as he did the same thing as me.
Then the sound of a door opening over the noise rang out.
"Fuck."
The curse left both our mouths at the same time. Clint didn't hesitate and a second later he let loose the explosive arrow.
Neither of us waited for the arrow to hit its mark. We bolted only stopping to grab our weapons. Then I ran like my life depended on it.
The resulting explosion behind us nearly knocked me off my feet. Clint was there beside me, already dragging me along to keep running. All the rain had made the footing treacherous enough at the walk, let alone a dead sprint like we were doing. As we ran, Clint already had another arrow notched and without missing a beat turned and fired another arrow.
Another fireball exploded behind us.
"Tent," Clint said over the noise.
At least one of us was thinking. I was still a little dumbfounded I'd made that shot.
The path up the mountain had been an easier trek than I had first anticipated when coming up. It's why we were able to make such good time. Going back down at the speed we were doing was going to be an interesting experience. We had to be extremely careful about navigating plenty of narrow ledges.
At least going down was still much easier than going up. Our mad scramble had us halfway down the mountain before either stopped to take a breath.
My lungs were burning. My throat had gone so dry it felt like it was sticking together. My legs had turned to complete jelly the second we had stopped running. There was nothing I could do but collapse on the small ledge and try and catch my breath.
Next to me, Clint was doing the same. His hair was sticking up wildly at different angles. As we caught each other's gaze, Clint began to chuckle through his gasping breaths. He couldn't get any words to form but he managed to hold up a fist for me to bump.
Laughing physically hurt but I managed to shakily bump my fist against Clint's.
Only us. There had been no mention of air support when I'd read the file. I assumed there'd be a helicopter to shuffle Burns in and out. But for whatever reason, it hadn't occurred to anyone else planning this mission that the helicopter could be used for defence.
And I'd just made the craziest shot of my life.
"STRIKE Team Delta, baby," Clint managed to speak first through his ragged laughter.
I could only laugh with him. Of course, it was STRIKE Team Delta. We were the ultimate shit magnets.
"You good?"
Nodding, I managed to swallow to get some moisture back into my throat. I didn't think I'd be able to talk but the irony of Clint asking me that wasn't lost on me. It was a nice change from me always worrying about him.
Right now he looked the most alive he'd been since New York. When he did crazy shots, Clint always had this gleeful expression on his face. It made him look so young and carefree. Even though he hadn't done the shot, he was wearing that exact same expression now.
"I am fucking amazing," I wheezed through my dry mouth and throat. It hurt like a bitch but I couldn't help myself.
Clint chuckled again, and pulled me in for a quick hug.
We both stank. Nearly a week of no showering in this humidity was disgusting. I had awful chaffing from my underwear. Clint's boots had given him impressive blisters from being so wet. I'm pretty sure I would have a fungal infection by the time we got off this mountain.
But what a time to be alive.
"Let's keep going before the thunderstorms kick in," Clint suggested, pulling back. "I don't know about you but I'd love a proper bed."
There was a suggestive smirk on his face as he said it. I knew exactly where he was going with that line of thought. Neither of us had made any move while on a mission. For me, it felt like crossing a line. That and our precious sleeping arrangements most nights weren't conducive for getting in the mood either.
Both of us were still on edge as we continued to scramble down the mountain as quickly as we dared. Even then, we weren't lucky enough to beat the afternoon thunderstorm.
You could see it rolling in from miles away. The black clouds were tinged with a nasty green colour. It had only hailed once and was so fierce we had to take shelter in our tent. This time we didn't have the tent.
The mountainside didn't have any hidden caves or alcoves to shelter in. I grumbled as the first drop of rain hit my face. The only good thing about the rain was plenty of moisture in the air. How well a shelter of ice was going to hold up to hail was going to be the next problem.
"Do you want to stop and I'll see if I can build a shelter?" I asked, raising my voice over the wind.
Clint shook his head as he increased his speed. I hiked my rifle over my shoulder a little higher as I followed.
It only took another five minutes before the storm hit us full force. There was nothing to shelter us from the full brunt of the storm. Thankfully there was no hail. It was still a completely miserable experience. I was soaked all over again.
Head down; I trudged along behind Clint. Focusing on where my feet went was more important than anything else. It was better than thinking about how cold, wet and miserable I was. I was too busy looking down at my soggy boots that I didn't notice Clint had stopped.
Running into him, I was about to open my mouth to snap at him for stopping suddenly.
Clint had his head cocked to the side. Frowning, I looked around but I couldn't see anything through the torrential rain.
Grabbing me, Clint pushed us up against the side of the mountain. His body covering mine. I don't know what he heard but I reacted instantly, sending us both invisible.
My question was answered a second later when I heard the sound of another helicopter. For a moment I was super impressed by whoever the pilot was. It was hell flying in this weather in a Quinjet, let alone a smaller and less stable aircraft. I also cursed the SHIELD briefing. The guy wasn't meant to have a lot of air support. One helicopter I could deal with. Two, I was beginning to get pissed off.
My fingers dug into Clint's arms as the sound of the helicopter got closer. This was not how this was meant to go.
"On the count of three," Clint said over the noise of the rain.
I knew better than to ask what was going on. Clint's muscles flexed under my hands as he went for his bow.
"One," Clint started.
I blew out a breath. Looking over Clint's shoulder I could see the helicopter closing in on us again.
"Two."
Part of me was thrilled. Somewhere along the line, I'd begin to love these crazy moments with Clint. I didn't doubt he'd miss.
"Three."
I let go of Clint, dropping the invisibility.
In a moment quicker than I could follow, Clint had an arrow notched and fired.
Two seconds later the helicopter burst into an impressive fireball. It was quite a sight against the stormy sky.
I didn't get time to admire it. Clint was dragging me along before the fireball started falling from the sky.
It made an already tense trip worse. The hours ticked by as we tried not to kill ourselves sliding down the mountain. Every noise made us pause, looking into the dark sky for another helicopter. Neither of us spoke either. It seemed like an unspoken agreement that we'd keep going.
The rain begin to let up in the early hours of the evening. While it wasn't a torrential downpour it was enough to make it miserable yet again. Adrenaline kept me moving until the grey light of dawn. Even Clint was beginning to stumble as the sun started to pierce through the heavy cloud that had stuck around most of the evening.
I had to stop. There was no way I could manage another step with the pace we'd been going at all night. I was done. I couldn't even warn Clint. I simply fell to the ground, breathing so heavily I thought I would hyperventilate.
To my surprise, Clint was only half a step ahead of me. He hit the ground hard, sounding like he was struggling to catch his breath just as much as I was.
I could see we were about halfway down the mountain in the dull light. Our panicked run over the last few hours had covered nearly two days of uphill walking.
It sucked there was still at least another day of walking.
Now I'd stopped I could feel how sore my feet were. I knew I had new blisters. My legs were burning from our crazy rush. I'm sure I had many new bruises, bumps and scrapes. I hadn't grabbed my bag in our mad dash to get away from the first helicopter. Neither had Clint. We had no water or food. Running along, I tipped my face to the sky and tried to catch some rain. It did nothing for the burning thirst I now had.
"I'm glad you stopped," Clint said through his laboured breathing. "I was about to collapse."
I managed a wheezing chuckle, still too out of breath to reply. Neither of us spoke as the sun slowly came out from behind the clouds. Despite our mad dash and still being on edge if we were going to be followed again, I took in the view of the sunrise.
It was a beautiful part of the world. The sun touched the tops of the expansive forestry below us. Too many shades of green to name spread out as far as the eye could see. Sometimes I wish I had my phone so I could take a photo of places like this. It was much better than slogging through a desert with the sand's reflection making it hotter than the gates of hell.
Not that today was going be much cooler than the gates of hell. Even though the sun had just come out, the humidity was steadily climbing. It was going to be another scorcher.
"I wonder if Evans is freaking out right now," Clint broke the silence with a painful sounding cough. "Our radio blew up with the tent."
I looked at Clint in concern. While I knew you didn't get sick from the rain, the cough also didn't sound great. It was the perfect time for our immune systems to get angry with the stress we put our bodies through.
"Evans will definitely be freaking out," I couldn't stop the small huff of amusement escaping. "He's going to kill us both."
Having no radio also meant we had a very long slog back to the safehouse. It would be days before we could get in touch with anyone from SHIELD. We were going to have a really long and shitty time ahead of us. But looking over at Clint, I found myself not minding. There was a selfish part of me enjoying having him to myself for a little while.
As if the universe heard that thought, the next second, Jared appeared in front of us.
"You know, you weren't supposed to throw your radio away," Jared said dryly. Like us, he also looked like shit. I could tell he hadn't slept in a while. But he was trying to smile.
I felt guilty for another reason entirely. Jared was struggling just as badly as Clint. Yet I felt I hadn't done anything to help him. We hadn't even talked about it together.
"Yeah I needed a vacation," Clint said back snarkily. "Did Evans send you to play fetch?"
"And like a good boy, here I am." Jared didn't look offended for once. "Let's go. You're both needed."
I didn't get a chance to voice a protest. Jared simply grabbed the closest part of my body he could, which was my shoulder, and teleported away.
Finding myself back in Evans office wasn't the worst place Jared had ever dropped me. By the quick glance I'd gotten out of the window, it looked to be early evening here.
Evans was sitting in his chair, his eyes glued to his computer. He didn't look up at me, simply turned the computer screen around so I could see it. There was a news bulletin playing and at the bottom of the video in bold letters that you couldn't miss.
CONFIRMED! SAME CAPTAIN AMERICA FROM THS 40S. BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE BY SHIELD.
The news anchor was talking about how it wasn't a descendant. I could only blink at the screen.
A slightly manic laugh bubbled out of me. I couldn't help it.
"Constance is going to be so pissed."
Authors Note
Hello my amazing readers! I'm so sorry with how long this took to get out. It's been a busy couple of months. The middle bit of this chapter gave me some grief, as I'm sure no one is surprised I'm not 100% happy with it. But another chapter. YAY!
Thank you everyone for sticking with me. I appreciate the check ins when I haven't been active. It was just time and energy that has stopped me writing over the last few months. I've missed Kari and Clint. I'm also happy to get the team back together for a bit of fun very soon.
I won't promise anything quick for updates. They will come! I promise that.
Until next time.
